Page 51 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“Oh, thank God. Can you take one? I think I’m giving my waitressing skills too much credit.”

My brother laughs softly and takes the plate perched on my arm.

“You get food for yourself?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ll take one of these. I wanted to make sure Noah and his parents eat, and I wanted to give them some time alone.”

Anthony nods, then picks up a slice of ham from the plate he’s holding and takes a bite. “This one’s yours now.”

“Ha, yeah. I guess it is.”

I head toward the door with Anthony behind me, probably still raiding my dinner. Before I push the door open, though, his hand lands on my shoulder. I pause and turn to the side, expecting him to point out something I dropped or to cop to eating my plate clean in seconds. While his expression looks guilty, however, my plate is still full. A new jolt of panic zaps through my body.

“What is it?”

I don’t know that I can take one more thing. Not now, at least. I need time to spread things apart. To feel happy about Noah and worried about my dad. And joy for Noah’s dad being here. And pride for the holiday dinner.

“No, it’s nothing bad. It’s . . . it’s good, actually.”

“Oh.” I fall back on my heels and my chest deflates. My pulse needs to catch up now.

“I’m giving Dad a kidney,” he says. And just like that, my pulse has no chance in hell.

“What?” I’m pretty sure he doesn’t just get to declare such a thing and make it so. We’re both getting tested, and so is my uncle. We won’t know the results for a few days. Unless?—

“Did you already test?”

I can tell by the way his mouth tightens that he did. He lifts a shoulder slightly and blinks through our gaze.

“I had it done right after Thanksgiving. I drove up to Chicago from Tiff, and I told Coach why I needed to miss practice. Noah thought I was taking an early final, and he was honestly so mopey and distracted over you, apparently, that he didn’t seem to care when I came home late that night. I wanted to know. Just in case.”

My eyes are glued open. I can’t seem to blink, I’m so shocked by his news. But also, I understand why he did this. I would have, too, if I knew when he did. I would have needed to dosomething.It’s better than feeling helpless.

“I’m a good match, Frankie. I told Mom and Dad I’d already tested after they set up the appointments for me and you. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you then. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was trying to one-up you or something. It’s stupid, but I just . . . I need to do this. I’m a good match. Even if you’re a match, the doctors said my percentage will likely be the strongest.”

“What about hockey? You can’t play if you’re healing. And I don’t think they let kidney donors play contact sports, so even if you take a year, you . . . you’ll be done.”

I finally blink when the tears prick the corners of my eyes. Damn these tears. Showing up way too often this year.

“Looks like I’m officially retired from the ice.” He shrugs.

“Does Noah know?” I glance over my shoulder to the door where they sit on the other side.

“I’ll tell him later. Maybe after his dad leaves. I want him to have a perfect Christmas. And it’s not like I’ll leave him hanging.I bet Coach will still let me travel with the team. I’d make a great team manager. It’s not like I play anyway.”

We both chuckle at the hard truth.

“I’m not sure I can let you just do this,” I stammer.

He puts my plate down on a nearby counter, then takes the ones balanced in my hands and sets them down as well. Without pause, Anthony pulls me into the tightest hug I’ve ever gotten from him. His embrace is warm and drowns all my fears with a sudden, odd dose of comfort.

“You don’t have a choice, Frankie. I call seniority on this one, okay?”

I suck in my lips and hold in my cry. Damn him for using our sibling rank to his advantage. It’s how he always got the front seat or the bigger slice of pizza. I suppose it’s only fair that he gets some of the hard stuff, too.

“Okay,” I utter into his neck.

And for the first time in days, I think everything really will be.

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